At JFK, we took various trains and subways to our New York City friend's apartment. At Jamaica Station we saw a mother raccoon and two babies crawl along the tracks, scale a short wall, and disappear under a metal cap of a building wall. As a warning that my sense of direction was even more scrambled than it usually is, every train that we took traveled in the opposite direction that I thought it would.
LGL had to work the morning, but he stayed up to greet us and chat a little bit. We fell asleep to the sounds of traffic.
After a quick breakfast, we walked about four blocks from the apartment to Central Park. Everyone told us the day was wonderful, as it was (a humid) 78F (previous days, there had been a heat wave). We wound around a bit on some of the paths, but Mark knew that I'd want to see (and photograph) the Bow Bridge, and the Bethesda Terrace Fountain.
What struck me about Central Park was that it was cleaner than a lot of Eugene Parks. Along the way we saw lots of granite or marble embedded with mica, and a family of turtles (which I startled) staying out of a bright green algae bloom by sunning on a long rock.
A Eugene-looking man in paint-splattered overalls stood before the archway and released gigantic bubbles from a bubble-solution soaked string contraption. A guitarist filled the chamber with music from his six-string. Painting of the seasons lined the place, but they seemed like faded memories of the seventies; I enjoyed the sculptures and textured stone more.
Mark was in charge of navigation, so we detoured through a fancy hotel where you can still sit for tea... which I want to do now (hmm, how to incorporate sitting for tea there with a visit to the MET, which is in the middle of the park...). We were supposed to meet LGL at a lunch placed called Hamburger Heaven--but it was closed for renovations, so we waited for him at Sach's across the street and looked at expensive jewels.
After a lovely meal at an Irish-ish pub, we walked LGL back to work, and then headed for The Strand Bookstore. The Strand is sort of like Powell's City of Books, only smaller. I'd say that the selection of Powell's is larger and includes more titles, but The Strand was less industrial.
I went to their occult section, and saw the usual Wicca 101 books -- I almost got a copy of Penszack's "Gay Witchcraft: Empowering the Tribe" -- and some of the pictures of fit nude men (with ritual items strategically placed) helped me to understand why the Eugene Library can't seem to hang onto a copy... but... it didn't speak to me as much as it would have a me twenty years ago. I wound up purchasing a book of New York stone sculptures, and Helen Wrecker's "The Golem and the Djinn." (It turns out that Bethesda Terrace Fountain plays a large part in Helen's book.)
Mark took us to the Village. I must confess the balls of my feet were bothering me. There was an uptick in cute guys, and the difference between Washington Square and Central Park was the difference between The Eugene Weekly and The New Yorker.
Oddly, it's pollen season here, too.
No comments:
Post a Comment